


A Name Worth Remembering

by minhoruns



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, a lot of minho/newt's friendship, a mix of book and movie canon, a year before thomas comes up in the box, lots of platonic friendships between the gladers!!, minho has a lot of love to give and no one is gonna stop him from giving it, newt is an absolute sweetheart, protective gally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-30 04:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoruns/pseuds/minhoruns
Summary: "Never throughout history has a man who lived a life of ease lefta name worth remembering." - Theodore RooseveltAs El settles in to the Glade, she can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity surrounding one of the Gladers and an immediate interest in another. The longer she’s there, the more interesting things become and El might just learn something about herself without actually regaining the memories WICKED stole from her.





	1. Chapter 1

Her mind was empty. There should’ve been memories in there somewhere, memories about her family, her childhood, about the world, but no matter how hard she tried to remember, only her name came to mind. El. _My name is El. My name is El. My name is El_. She kept repeating it to fill the emptiness in her head as she began to take in her surroundings. The cold metal floor pressed against her cheek and the deafening sound of cranking gears were the first things she noticed, followed by the dampness of the air and the foul stench. There was something else in there with her.

El pushed the palms of her hands against the grated flooring—which she noticed was moving upwards like an elevator—and got to her feet, using her hands to feel around in the dark. It was moving much faster than she figured an elevator would’ve and El stumbled around until she found the wall of whatever this thing was, using it to stabilize herself.

There were a few blue fluorescent lights illuminating the contents of the crated box every few seconds, a quick flash of light, through the holes of the walls and flooring. El noted a couple of wooden crates stacked in one corner, an animal-like sound coming from one. A few bags of bread and fruit were spread across the floor and El started to wonder where she was being taken. Who needed farm animals, food, and _a girl?_

The box jerked to a stop shortly after she got used to standing in it, sending her crashing into the back wall and falling against the ground. El could feel the grooves in the grated floor leaving a patterned indent on her cheek and her palms as she got off the ground, sitting on her knees. The top of the box swung open, a huge wave of light filling the box and blinding El. She fell back onto her butt, shielding her eyes while trying to make out what was above her.

They were boys, dozens of them, and they all stood wide-eyed outside of the box, towering over her. A few in the back were whispering and pushing each other out of the way, standing on the tips of their toes to see over the taller boys in the front.

“It’s a girl!” someone yelled, the pushing and shoving becoming more intense as the boys tried to sneak a look at El, her hand still hovering over her eyes.

“You don’t suppose they sent the wrong shank up, do ya?” a blond boy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at the taller boy next to him. The tall one shrugged before looking back at El.  She stood to her feet, using the hand that was shielding her eyes to push her hair out of her face. El had originally thought that it was black, but it looked lighter in the sunlight, and longer. It cascaded far past her shoulders.

“You boys never seen a girl before?” she asked, her voice sounding different than it did her in head. It was a logical question, but after she spoke it, El realized that she had never seen a boy before. Well, she had to have seen one before, but she couldn’t remember.

Her head started spinning and the prolonged exposure to the light was giving her a headache. No one answered for a few seconds. Instead, they all stood there, staring. El began to wonder if this was something that happened to everyone. Without her memories she didn’t know what was normal anymore. It felt like something was wrong about this whole situation, especially since the boys were acting so strange. She supposed to be living in a house with her family, right? That was the norm.

The taller boy eventually jumped down into the box, the sudden impact shaking it slightly. “You’re the first I’ve ever seen. Well, _we’ve_ ever seen. But you’re here, so, welcome to the Glade, Greenbean.”

“Hey! Who said Gally gets first dibs on the girl?”

The boy who’d jumped down—Gally—turned back around to face the others. “Shut up shuck-face, I’m not calling dibs.”

“None of you are gonna call dibs,” a new voice said, the boys shuffling to the left and right to make a path. A dark-skinned boy, older than most of the others, appeared, pausing once his eyes fell on El. The boys had all fallen silent and their gaze was fixed on the boy, a few of them occasionally letting theirs flicker back to El.

“You gotta name?”

“El,” she said softly, her name sounding weird spoken aloud.

“L?” The blond boy spoke again, the corner of his upper lip twitching into a smirk. “Like the letter?”

“Uh, no, not exactly. E-L. El. Or at least that’s how I see it in my head.” El looked away from the boy and tried to take in her surroundings from down in the box. She couldn’t see much, only a few trees and giant cobblestone walls in the distance. Her eyes fell on Gally, whose hands were tucked under his arms as he studied her face, waiting for her to say something else, and then back to the blond and the dark-skinned boys. “It’s like it’s short for something, only I don’t have the slightest idea what.”

“Well, El, I hope you like it here, ‘cause you ain’t going back.” The boy turned to the others and swatted his hand. “Back to work ya shanks.”

Gally helped El out of the box before climbing out himself and El watched the boys shuffle away slowly, murmuring to one another and stealing more glances at her. Only three boys remained, standing side-by-side, and El held onto the straps of her overalls as she spoke.

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

The boys exchanged a glance, all three letting out a little sigh. “Hell if we know,” the blond one said, brushing his thumb against the side of his nose. “It’s the same thing with every Greenie that arrives in this bloody place. None of us can remember a thing.”

It wasn’t the response she was hoping for, but it was better than some horrible truth. It made El feel a little better that none of them could remember anything either. They were all in this together and that comforted her.

Silence fell over the three of them, the blond keeping an eye on the other boys in the Glade and the dark-skinned boy seeming to be lost in thought as he stared at the ground, his hand on his chin.

“Hey, Alby, I could give her the tour if you—”

“No.” Alby’s head snapped up and over in Gally’s direction. “Get back to work with the others.”

Gally grumbled but eventually turned to leave and El watched as he did, something about him seeming oddly and impossibly familiar. Maybe it was the way he walked, taking long strides and bouncing slightly. El didn’t know him, but she thought that maybe she had once known someone like him. It was a weird feeling that lived inside her chest, bubbling up like boiling water, the steam trapped in her sternum.

#

El took her time to look around at her new home after the tour with Alby, sitting with her back against a tree trunk. The Glade, as Gally had called it, was the greenest thing she could ever remember seeing, though she couldn’t remember what most places looked like. It was close to how she remembered farms looking—the open fields and animals. The grass was lush and the trees swayed slightly.

They were surrounded by four cobblestone walls, which formed a square, and they towered higher than any of the trees and shacks. At the center of each wall was an opening, a gap leading out to a place unknown to El. They said there was no going back, so what lay out on the other side of those walls?

A makeshift wooden two-story building sat in the Glade, lopsided but looking sturdy enough to work. Alby had called that the Homestead during the tour; some of the Gladers slept in there and the Med-Jacks worked on the second floor. A barn was located in one of the corners and a field of crops was flourishing with plants and herbs.

El had to admit it was all really impressive; these boys who couldn’t sit still for more than a minute and constantly called each other names managed to make a living here. Although, she had no idea how long they’d been here or why they were put here. And above all else, she had no idea why she was put here, the only girl in a Glade full of seemingly immature boys.

“Hey Greenie, how ya holding up?” The blond, who El had learned was Newt, was headed in her direction, walking with a slight limp. He plopped himself next to her, crossing his legs and picking at the grass.

El shrugged, studying the boy’s face as he focused on the blades of grass he held between his thumb and forefinger. “Alby says I’m doing better than most Greenies, so I guess I’m all right. It’s kind of hard to miss a place and people you can’t remember.”

Newt hummed in response, letting the grass fall back to the ground before tilting his head to the side to look at El. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re a girl or what, but most of the boys that come up here end up crying their eyes out for a few days before getting off their butts and working. They’re always so scared.”

El almost laughed, finding herself picking at the grass along with Newt. “Well, I’m definitely scared, don’t get me wrong. Not being able to remember anything isn’t the most comforting thought. And someone had to have put us here. That alone is pretty terrifying.” She paused, twirling the grass in her fingers.

“But sitting around feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help. And if those idiots can do okay,” El said, gesturing to the boys putting each other in head-locks and wrestling with one another, “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The two welcomed the silence as they watched the Gladers joke with one another on their break, laughing and whacking each other’s shoulders as retaliation against being made fun of. They still stole glances at El occasionally, but movement from the corner of her eye cause her to turn her attention away.

An Asian boy was running out from the opening in the walls to her left, his dark hair swept up and out of his face. He wore a blue shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and El realized that he was one of the few boys in the Glade wearing non-neutral colored clothing. The small pop of color made her smile.

“Who’s that?” El asked, nudging Newt’s arm to grab his attention away from the grass. The boy looked up, the both of them watching the one in blue jog past, his surroundings not seeming to be a distraction for him. He was one thing the others weren’t. Focused. That was until he saw her.

He slowed slightly, his head tilting to the side, angling it enough for the sweat accumulated on his forehead to glisten in the sunlight. His gaze moved to the side for a moment, focusing on Newt instead, lifting his hand for a small wave. El watched his eyes flicker toward her once more before his head turned away and he continued jogging away.

“Minho,” Newt said. “He’s the Keeper of the Runners. Strongest and fastest one of us; best at what he does.”

“And what does a Runner do? I mean, besides run? What’s out there?”

“So, now you’re asking questions. I thought we finally got a Greenie so knew how to keep their mouth shut.” Newt laughed softly, rubbing his forehead before continuing. “The other side of those walls is what we call the Maze. The Runners go out each day, mapping it, looking for a way out.”

El wasn’t sure what she expected the answer to be, but a giant maze wasn’t exactly at the top of her list. Her stomach churned at the thought of people putting kids in the middle of a maze to find their way out like they were a bunch of mice. What good would this do anyway? What were they trying to get out of all of this?

“Are the Runners the only ones allowed out there?” El watched Minho disappear into a short cobblestone building, the metal door swinging close behind him.

“She’s a smart one.” Gally appeared at the other side of Newt, looking even taller than normal from her spot on the ground. “Alby’s calling a Gathering about our Greenbean here.” His eyes drifted to El, tucking his hands under his arms again—it seemed to be his default stance.

 “Why does that sound like a bad thing?” El asked, getting to her feet and brushing off her overalls. She had taken both straps off so the bib hung down past her waist, revealing a heavily faded yellow tee underneath.

“Alby seems to like ya, I doubt it’s about anything that’ll getcha into trouble,” Newt reassured, grabbing Gally’s wrist and pulling himself off the ground. “I’ll get Minho when he’s done with the maps.” Headed toward the building Minho disappeared inside, Newt turned around, a smirk on his face. “Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone, Greenie.”

El laughed. “Stop acting like my babysitter and I’ll try my best.”

She watched him jog towards the building next to the Box and Gally lingered around for a little longer. “Y’know, you give off a good vibe, Greenbean, different from all the shanks around here. I think you’ll be good for this place.” Gally almost smiled as he turned for the Homestead, leaving El alone once again. She rested her back against the trunk of the tree, watching as Minho’s head popped out from behind the metal door, listening to what Newt had to say. The dark-haired boy looked past Newt’s shoulder at El, nodding and clapping a hand against Newt’s back. They closed and locked the door, following Gally to the Homestead.

A loud and sudden cranking sound of grinding gears pulled El’s attention back to her left, finding that the opening in the wall was slowly closing shut. She narrowed her eyes, wrinkles of confusion digging into her forehead. The sound was coming from not only the west opening, but all four and El rotated her gaze to the others, spinning around and placing her hands on the trunk of the tree, studying the moving walls. Did they always close? And if they did, why? Were they trying to lock them in the Glade or keep something else out? Neither were entirely comforting thoughts.

The walls all came to a complete close, a deep boom echoing throughout the Glade before silence swept over it once again. Pain pinched at El’s chest and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the rough bark of the tree. Those four openings in the towering stone walls were some of the only things about this whole situation that didn’t freak her out. The Runners were allowed to go out there. They were allowed to find a way out.

El’s stomach growled. God, she hoped Frypan was a decent cook.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, you decided on what, exactly?” El asked, holding a spoonful of stew to her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she had food and, honestly, for a teenage boy, Frypan cooked some of the best food she could remember tasting.

“Nothing, really. Well, nothing changed from normal, at least. Alby was worried your pretty little face was gonna make it hard for the boys to focus on work. He wondered if we should postpone your job shadowin’—”

“Until those shuck-faces got more ‘comfortable’ around you.” Minho finished Newt’s sentence, slumping down across from the two of them at the table. “Won’t make a difference, you working or not.”

El rose an eyebrow. “Thanks?” They hadn’t been formally introduced, but they both knew who the other was. Not only did word travel fast in the Glade, but he had just gotten back from a meeting about her. She hadn’t heard Minho peep a single word until then, him having been in the Maze and then the Gathering. But even when Newt told him about the Gathering, he’d just nodded. El wondered how much he talked during the meeting. Was he always a guy of few words?

Newt broke his roll in half, dipping it in the stew before shoving it in his mouth. “You’ll be trained like normal,” he started, chewing and swallowing before continuing, “which essentially means you’ll work with each Keeper for a day. Then after you’ve gone through them all, we’ll hold another Gathering and decide what you’re the best at.”

“And if it turns out you aren’t good at anything, you get the highest honor of being a Slopper.” Minho chuckled at himself, scooping spoonful after spoonful of Fry’s stew into his mouth. The kid looked like he hadn’t eaten in days but El figured running through a maze all day would do that to someone.

Newt ate the rest of his roll before grabbing Minho’s off his plate, ripping off a piece and shoving it in his mouth before Minho could react—who eventually chucked the other half at Newt’s face, the roll bouncing off and landing in Newt’s stew. They two boys laughed softly and El smiled, enjoying their childish behavior; it made her forget for a while that they were put there for a reason, a reason she knew she might never figure out. Though, she didn’t really _want_ to find out what it was.

None one talked much for the rest of dinner, each of them taking the time to savor the rest of the meal no matter how many times they complained about Fry’s cooking. El wanted to ask Minho about the Maze—about the walls closing—but she knew the Gladers didn’t like being bombarded with questions. If they got a new person every month, they’ve already had to deal with question after question, all of which being a same: _Where am I? Why can’t I remember anything? What’s out there? Why can’t_ I _go out there?_ El figured everything would be answered soon enough, so she kept her mouth shut.

That night the Gladers threw a huge bonfire, ignoring their responsibilities around the Glade for the time being. A roaring fire sat in the center, reaching up several feet into the air, constantly being fed more logs to keep it going. El stood off to the side, watching the events unfold; boys were cheering and dancing, drinking a concoction Gally had crafted himself.

Gally, however, wasn’t drinking or dancing. He was using a stick to draw a circle into the dirt, tossing the twig to the side when finished. Holding his arms out, Gally yelled something El couldn’t quite make out over the rest of the noise. One of the boys stepped into the circle with him, lurching themselves forward and throwing all their weight against the tall boy. Gally stumbled backward, but grabbed the boy by his arms, shoving him and sending him tumbling back and onto his butt.

The other boys who gathered to watch erupted into laughter, clinking their glasses together and chanting for someone else to step in. Several more Gladers tried, but none of them could beat Gally at his own game. 

“Enjoying yourself, Ellie?” Newt asked, bumping his shoulder into hers to grab her attention. 

El rose an eyebrow at the new nickname, laughing a little. “Ah, so I’ve upgraded from Greenie?” 

“Not a bloody chance. You’re still our Greenie until the next one comes up in about 29 days.” Newt smiled and took a swig of the drink in hand. “You’re just a Greenie with a name.” 

“How sweet.” 

Fry had whipped up a bit more food for the occasion, Minho eating a plateful, despite having just finished dinner, while sat on a tree stump, the other Runners around him chatting amongst themselves. Alby stood among the crowd of those watching Gally’s fights, his arms crossed, but a small smile spread across his face as he shook his head every time a Glader stumbled out of the circle. Everyone was genuinely enjoying themselves. They were  _happy_. 

El shoved her hands into her pockets, her nose scrunching up as she watched another kid get thrown out of the circle. “Anyone ever beat him?”

“Hmm?” Newt asked, following El’s gaze over to the fight. “Ah,” he started, licking his pursed lips before continuing. “Minho did once. Didn’t want to have anything to do with the fight, but Gally kept buggin’ the guy. Caught him off guard and tackled him straight outta the circle. Wounded Gally’s ego pretty bad.”

“Well,” El started, pulling the straps of her overalls back onto her shoulders, “if that hurt his ego, a girl beating him definitely will.”

Newt, mid-swig, spat the drink back into his cup. “Ya got a bloody death wish, Greenie?” He grabbed her forearm, pulling her away from Gally’s fighting circle. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Gally’s like a human wall. Ya can’t just knock him over.”

El let out a puff of air, placing her hands on her hips, her gaze not leaving Gally and the other Gladers still attempting to beat him. No matter how many times they got tossed out of the circle, they were so determined to win, probably because that would gain them bragging rights, and Gally didn’t seem like the kind of guy to let something like that go.

Alby had placed a few more logs into the bonfire and El watched the sparks fly out, dancing in the night sky around the orange and yellow flames along with the shadows on the ground. A new wave of warmth brushed against her skin, flushing her cheeks. It was another one of those familiar feelings, like something she had felt before. Maybe not from a bonfire, but something else.

“Do you think we knew each other before we were sent up here? Us Gladers?” El asked, continuing to stare at the flames in front of her.

“What?”

“Gally.” She turned to look at Newt, biting her upper-lip as she tried to take the words buzzing in her head and form them into coherent sentences. “Something about him feels familiar and I can’t shake the feeling. I want to know if he feels it too.”

Newt’s brow furrowed. “By signing yourself up to get pummeled? That’s why you want to fight the guy?” He finished off his drink and bent over to set the glass on the ground, the overgrown grass nearly hiding it. “You’ve got a strange way of scoping out the situation.”

“You think asking him if he gets a weird feeling in his chest whenever he’s around me is a better idea? I don’t want the guy to think I’ve got the hots for him.”

Newt laughed, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes in genuine delight, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Gally’d start bragging to the others and you and I both know you’ve had your eye on Minho all day.”

“And what is that supposed to imply? …Actually,” she paused, holding out a finger. “Don’t answer that.” She definitely had been paying particular attention to Minho, and she knew it, but he just struck her as so different from the other Gladers. He was focused. Determined. If there was actually a way out of that place, Minho was going to find it. She could see it in his dark eyes when he laughed at dinner and in the space between his feet when he jogged through the Glade. It trickled down his spine and lived in the spare hairs that stuck out in odd directions.

 “I’m gonna go fight Gally,” El announced, breaking herself from her thoughts and practically leaping forward before Newt could reach out and stop her again.

“You’re the craziest Greenie I’ve ever met, Ellie.”

El turned around, a smirk on her face. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

She stood at the edge of the circle that had slowly been filled in with dirt from the boys’ bodies sliding over in defeat. Winston had made his way into the ring as a bit of a joke, the rest of the Gladers finished trying to prove their strength, and they threw fake punches at each other. Gally tapped his knuckles against Winston’s gut, the Slicer dramatically falling to the ground, arms wrapped around his stomach. He landed at El’s feet, flashing a smile at the her from his spot on the ground. El let out a small laugh and stepped over him into the dirt circle, stopping a few feet in front of the Keeper of the Builders.

“If you two are done playfighting, I’d like to have a go.”

Gally rose an eyebrow. “Really, Greenbean?”

“Really. And don’t go easy on me just ‘cause I’m a girl.”

The Gladers were whispering to one another and those who weren’t watching before had gathered around. El glanced over her shoulder at Newt, who had walked over to watch, and he simply shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. She turned back to Gally, holding out her arms to mimic what he had done at the beginning of the night.

The Builder didn’t miss a beat. He lunged forward, overestimating El’s height as she slipped under his arm, laughing as he twirled around to face her.

“Is that all you got?”

“Bloody hell, Greenie, don’t provoke him!” Newt yelled from the opposite side of the circle, his hands cupped around his mouth to be heard over the chanting of the crowd. El couldn’t tell if they were cheering for her or Gally, but before she could focus back on her opponent, Gally’s body collided with hers, the palms of his hands pressed hard against her shoulders. She was sent flying back, her head smacking against the dirt-covered ground. The crowd fell silent after a few gasps.

El groaned, rolling over and pushing her torso off the ground, the top of her head still pressed against the dirt along with her hands and knees. Everything hurt. The pain in her head pounded in her ears and the ground seemed to move whenever she opened her eyes. But the pain wasn’t what had caught her attention. That same feeling in her chest arose, this time climbing up into her throat, as if someone knocked the wind out of her, only she could still breathe.

“Gally you slinthead!” someone yelled from the crowd, breaking the silence. The pulsing sound in El’s ears was too loud to tell who had spoken, but she recognized the voice. It was someone she had spoken to before.

“She said not to go easy on her!”

“You aren’t supposed to listen to her, ya shank! Is she okay?” _Was that Newt?_

Lifting her head, El sat on her knees, her eyes refocusing on her surroundings and the swelling in her throat rushed back down, burning all the way like drinking boiling water. Her hand flung up to her neck, pressing her fingers into her skin, trying to make the feeling leave. Did Gally feel something too? Or was she just going crazy? But then the feeling disappeared. It didn’t fade away like the pounding in her head eventually would. It just left.

El took this time to refocus on the fight, staring at the hand still pressed against the dirt covered ground. Her fingertips were almost brushing against the edge of the circle; she was still inside. The fight wasn’t over. Gally was approaching from behind and El slowly turned around a little, staring at his feet as he came closer.

“Hey, Greenbean, you all right?”

El smiled, though with her head angled down as it was, Gally wouldn’t have been able to see it. She moved so she was balancing on her toes, still crouched, and dove for his legs. The crowd roared with its typical cheering and El grunted as she used all her strength to push against the Builder’s legs, lifting him up and over herself as he stumbled. She rolled out of the way, watching Gally collapse outside of the circle.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking!” El shouted, laughing as she fell back onto her butt. She found herself looking to her left at the crowd of Gladers, finding Newt, Winston, and Alby gaping down at her, the bonfire’s flames casting flickering shadows over their smiling faces. Frypan was close by, laughing and focused on Gally—who was just then getting to his feet—but behind everyone else was Minho, arms crossed, his eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth slowly curling up into a smirk. They held each other’s gaze and he dipped his head down slightly, as if trying to convey something, but the Runner standing to his left spoke, pulling Minho’s attention away.

“As much as I hate to admit this,” Gally said, holding his hand out to help El to her feet, “that was impressive.”

El grabbed his hand, her head spinning from standing too fast. She held a hand up to her head but smiled up at the tall boy. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Gally tilted his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in concern.

“No, I’m all right.” El shook her head, only making the throbbing worse, but smiled again and pat the Builder’s arm. “Good fight.” She pushed past him and lowered herself against a fallen tree trunk a few feet away, facing the walls of the Maze and away from the bonfire. The pain eased a little as she returned to the ground, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her hands. To her relief, El felt no blood, figuring the worst it could’ve been was a mild concussion, and as much as she enjoyed watching the other Gladers have fun, it was only making her headache worse. Hopefully she wouldn’t be paired up with Gally or Winston the next day.

Footsteps sounded behind the log El was leaned against and she lifted her head, watching one of the Gladers step over the log from the corner of her eye. It wasn’t Newt, who she was expecting. It was Minho. El noticed he was no longer wearing his Runner’s pack and one side of his shirt was untucked, the sleeves still rolled up. He sat next to her, his right leg drawn to his chest and his arm resting on top of his knee. A glass of Gally’s drink was in his hand.

Neither of them said anything, both staring out at the closed walls. El massaged her forehead with her thumb and forefinger, hoping to reduce the pain that bounced around inside her skull. She started to wonder why he came to sit next to her, and if it had anything to do with the way he looked at her after her fight with Gally. Though she didn’t entirely mind that he wasn’t saying anything, especially with her headache, and figured if it had been anyone else, they’d be talking her ear off.

“That was really smart, you know,” Minho said, taking a drink of the concoction but keeping his gaze fixated on the Maze walls, “finding Gally’s weak point and using it against him. The shank’s got too big an ego from beating everyone. They all just throw their weight into him, hoping to knock him over, but no matter how many times it doesn’t work, they don’t seem to pick up on the fact that he’s too dense for that.”

El laughed a little, but she knew Minho was right. They clearly had no technique. “Well, no offense, but from what I’ve observed today, boys don’t tend to think much before they act.”

Minho turned to look at El, the slightest smirk on his face, and let out a puff of air that half-resembled a laugh. “Yeah, well,” he paused and rose his eyebrows, “I’m guilty of that. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He let his body lean slightly closer to El and whispered, “I’m pretty sure half of these shanks don’t think _at all_.”

El let out a hum of agreement, her eyes flickering to the ground, then the walls, and back to Minho. “Then it’s a good thing only the Runners are allowed in the Maze, huh?”

There were a few seconds of silence before Minho spoke, his head tilted to the side as if trying to comprehend what she had said. El was starting to think bringing up the Maze was a bad idea. She promised herself she wouldn’t pester him into talking about it.

“I’ll drink to that,” Minho finally said, sighing and taking a quick swig of his drink before holding it out for El to take. “Here, you should try some. But don’t bother asking what’s in it. No one knows—Gally won’t tell.”

El took the glass in her hands, the condensation caused by the heat of the fire coating her hands and making it hard to hold. She brought it up to her lips and downed half of what remained in the cup, instantly wishing she hadn’t. The Runner laughed as she shoved the glass back at him, coughing and spitting out whatever hadn’t been already swallowed into the grass.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Minho commented before finishing the rest, setting the glass on the ground.

“You could’ve told me that before I drank it.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, most Greenies are cautious about drinking it the first time, I wasn’t expecting you to shucking drink nearly the whole cupful.”

Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, El looked back over at Minho. “Is that a compliment?”

“If you want it to be.”

El opened her mouth to respond but was cut short by a shrieking sound that echoed throughout the Glade, snapping her attention to the Maze walls again. She heard Minho take in a sharp breath of air when it sounded.

“What was that?” El asked softly as she slowly turned her head in the Runner’s direction, her fear of asking questions quickly diminishing as this new fear surfaced.

Minho sighed and ran a hand over his hair that was slowly losing its shape. “The reason we’re all thankful those shuck doors close every night. We call them Grievers. Don’t know what they look like, not a single shank has lived to tell the tale. You get stuck out there at night, you don’t come back.”

El continued to stare in horror at the closed walls. The Runners went out there every day knowing very well if they didn’t get back before the doors closed, they’d be dead. It made sense to her now, why Newt told her the Runners were the fastest and strongest of the Gladers. They _needed_ to be. Suddenly being a Runner became more of a brave and heroic thing to do in El’s eyes—risking their own lives to find a way out for not just themselves, but everyone. In a way it was a selfless act; someone had to have been the first one to continuously go out there every day, to decide that was how they’d spend their time in the Glade. She assumed that someone was Minho, being the Keeper of the Runners and the best of the best according to Newt. That was another thing about him that she hadn’t quite seen in the other Gladers. Ambition. Motivation.

El felt Minho’s gaze on her and pulled her attention away from the walls, another shriek filling the air, this time quieter, farther away. His expression had softened and he forced a small smile.

“Don’t worry too much, Greenie. You’ll never be out there at night. The Glade is safe.” Minho spoke quietly, his smile twitching as it threatened to disappear. A smile of her own appeared on El’s face, leaving as she turned away from the boy. She wasn’t scared for her own sake. Like Minho had said, _she_ wasn’t the one that’d ever have the possibility of being out there at night. But he was.


End file.
